Yet who knows--let destiny be fulfilled--condemned he was, let him remain so then! Good or evil Spirit--gloomy and scornful Power, whom men call the genius of humanity, thou art a power more restlessly uncertain, more baselessly useless, than wild mountain wind! Chance, thou term'st thyself, but thou art nothing; thou inflamest everything with thy breath, crumblest mountains at thy approach, and suddenly art thyself destroyed at the presence of the Cross of dead wood behind which stand another Power invisible like thyself--whom thou deniest, perhaps, but whose avenging hand is on thee, and hurls thee in the dust dishonored and unnamed! Lost!--I am lost! What can be done?
Flee to Belle-Isle?
Yes, and leave Porthos behind me, to talk and relate the whole affair to every one! Porthos, too, who will have to suffer for what he has done.

I will not let poor Porthos suffer.
He seems like one of the members of my own frame; and his grief or misfortune would be mine as well.

Porthos shall leave with me, and shall follow my destiny.

It must be so." And Aramis, apprehensive of meeting any one to whom his hurried movements might appear suspicious, ascended the staircase without being perceived.

Porthos, so recently returned from Paris, was already in a profound sleep; his huge body forgot its fatigue, as his mind forgot its thoughts.